Brian had really taken a solid punch. When he lifted his head, the people around were staring at his bleeding nose and mouth in horror. Michelle looked scared, Theo was shocked—because they had no idea who the guy throwing the punch even was.
"Who the fuck do you think you are to creep on my sister like that?" the stranger shouted.
Brian was still in shock. Naturally—taking a punch like that out of nowhere wasn't something he was used to. Freezing up was normal.
Michelle slapped the guy and yelled, "I'll break that hand of yours!"
Brian needed to snap out of it. "His sister" was defending him, but he stood there frozen, like a little boy watching his parents fight, paralyzed in fear. He shook his head, took two steps forward, and landed a punch square in the guy's mouth.
But then, immediately, another punch came flying at him. And then they were at each other's throats.
Fists flew through the air. Students had formed a circle around them—some cheering, some panicking, some just watching with twisted amusement. The fight was brutal. Then, something happened to tilt the balance—some tall, blond guy grabbed Brian from behind and slammed him to the ground. And then, both of them started pounding on him together.
The winner was obvious now. It was Natasha's brother.
People began to scatter. Brian sat on a poolside lounger, blood dripping from his mouth, and Michelle was wiping his face with a tissue. She was saying something, but Brian couldn't hear a word—his inner voice was louder.
"That fucking bastard humiliated me… son of a bitch. Is it that fucking easy now? What kind of fucking world do we live in? They're even laughing at me now."
That was the final straw for Brian. He scanned the area. He was looking for something—anything—to break over their heads. But at the same time, there was fear. What if he got beat up again? Still… he'd already been humiliated. Two options lay in front of him: go take his revenge and protect his dignity, or give in to the fear and just walk away.
The second option… that was more Brian's style, honestly.
He'd always avoided taking risks when it mattered. And every time he was alone at night, left to wrestle with his thoughts and memories, he always regretted it.
And this time was no different.
"Damn, Brian, your eye is all purple!" said Michelle.
"You good, bro?" added Theo.
Brian looked at both of them. He was disgusted.
"Fuck the both of you. Fuck your relationship too," he thought to himself.
"Brian??" Michelle asked.
"I'm fine," said Brian. "No need to worry."
The next day, things had escalated like an avalanche. At the construction site, five workers were busting their asses, and they were seriously fed up. How many more days could this go on? It was starting to feel like the last straw.
Then Brian showed up and called everyone for a lunch break. And just like that, the tension melted away. Even though they were just his workers, they couldn't help but be a little afraid of Brian—not just because he was the boss, but because of the way he carried himself. Was Brian really that tough though?
After all, just last night he'd gotten beat up by two university kids. He'd come to the site with a swollen eye and a busted lip. Maybe that's what had spooked the workers—he looked dangerous now.
Meanwhile, Michelle had been lying in bed all day, not even bothering to get up. She'd tossed and turned, but the guilt wouldn't let her rest. She was more ashamed than Brian about what had happened. The beating Brian took—she couldn't get it out of her head. Maybe if that incident hadn't happened, maybe if she hadn't dragged him to that party, that guy—Mathew—might've never even had the balls to punch him. Who knows?
Brian, replaying the fight in his head over and over like he always did, had re-written the ending in his imagination each time. And in most versions, he came out on top. He was determined—next time, he'd fight. No matter what. He wouldn't back down.
Wasn't that what life was about anyway? If you run from every challenge, what do you end up with?
Brian got up from his cabin and lit a cigarette. The workers had done an amazing job. His motivational speech at lunch helped, but it was probably the intimidating look on his face that made them hustle. They had pulled off the work of ten men with just five. The job was almost done.
Which meant Brian wouldn't have to come back tomorrow. The guys could finish the rest on their own.
"Good job, boys," Brian called out.
"Thanks, boss!" voices rose from below. You could hear the pride in their tone.
That night, Brian went home and took a cold shower. Even though he hadn't really worked that day, his whole body ached. He had no energy left.
Two hours later, the doorbell rang. It was Michelle. She looked incredibly embarrassed—it was written all over her face. She looked like she had personally hired those university kids to beat him up.
They chatted, but there was a coldness between them. Like last night had fractured something. But then again, was there even anything to break? Brian was innocent, that was for sure. But Michelle? Was she?
"Are you mad at me?" Michelle asked. She was sitting on the couch, resting her right hand against her cheek, her legs tucked beneath her in a relaxed—but strangely intimate—pose.
"Why would I be?" Brian said, without even looking at her.
Michelle sighed. "It's my fault. If I hadn't taken you to that party, none of this would've happened. I already messed things up by dragging you into my love life, and now you got beat up because of me," she said, her voice trailing off into a near-tearful tone.
Brian: "Babe, I didn't fight because of you. That blonde's brother jumped me. What was his name again? Natael? Natasha?"
Michelle: "Natasha," she said—and that's when it hit her. She'd been so busy feeling guilty, she hadn't even thought about Brian and Natasha. Deep down, she felt a pang of jealousy.
It didn't make sense. Brian's love life wasn't any of her business. But still, she couldn't help asking.
Michelle: "How did you two meet? Did you like her?"
Brian: "Pfft, like her? Nah. I was just horny."
Michelle's curiosity suddenly spiked.
"If you had gone home with her that night," she asked, "what would you have done?"
Brian wasn't surprised. Conversations like this happened a lot between them. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Brian: "Her lips were huge, bro. Bet she'd give crazy head."
Michelle bit her lip.
The more Brian talked, the more Michelle bit down on that lip. She was getting turned on—unintentionally. Something about him since last night… he was so attractive. She wanted to grab him, kiss him, jump on him for hours.
But she couldn't.
They were "siblings," after all. This wasn't supposed to happen.
The next morning, Brian didn't go to work. He called the crew, made sure everything was on track, and then prepared himself a killer breakfast—eggs with sucuk, pastirma, everything you could think of. For some reason, he was in a great mood. Maybe it was because Michelle was coming over for breakfast.
When your closest friend is around, the day already feels easier. They ate together and went out—first the hospital, then took care of some paperwork for the construction job, and left the rest of the day for themselves.
Meanwhile, Theo was still calling Michelle now and then. And when she didn't pick up, he started sending messages laced with profanity.
"Fucking bastard," Brian thought. "Sick little pervert."
He was analyzing the whole thing in his head. He could already imagine how Theo was getting more and more pissed every time Michelle ignored him. Brian wasn't clueless—he'd had his share of toxic relationships. But those were high school games. Michelle was twenty-one, a junior in university. For her to be caught up in some immature, teenage-level relationship? It was ridiculous.
Because, come on—look at Michelle. With that kind of beauty, who the hell was Theo?
If Theo was a cockroach, Michelle—no matter how beautiful—was the sewer fairy who picked that roach up with her hand and mistook the filth for perfume.
Beauty wasn't enough. Michelle's character was weak. She was still just a kid, really.
They spent the whole day together. And when they finally got back home, Michelle's phone, which hadn't shut up since morning, rang once more. This time, it wasn't Theo.
It was Sarah.
Brian was lying on one side of the couch, Michelle on the other. Michelle was on the phone, Brian scrolling through TikTok. But he was still lost in his thoughts about last night. It was eating him alive.
Why the fuck didn't I say anything?
Could I even be more humiliated than that?
His train of thought was broken by Michelle's voice.
"Wanna go to a party?"
Brian turned his head.
"You fucking kidding me, Michelle? What party?"
"You're right," she said. "Let's not go."
"Nah, you go," Brian said. "Don't look at me like that. Go ahead."
"What am I supposed to do there without you?" Michelle muttered, trying to play it off.
But Brian had already zoned out again. He could go beat that kid's ass, take revenge. But Brian wasn't that type.
Still, nothing was stopping him from going to that party—just to spite them.
⸻
The party had started. People were already flying, and this time, the crowd was wild. It wasn't like the previous night. That was a school-hosted event, and most students were still back in their hometowns for summer break. But this party? This was different.
It was at the luxurious house of Sarah Monroe—one of the most popular girls in their age group in all of Los Angeles.
Like Michelle, Sarah went to the University of Southern California. She was not only smart, but incredibly social. She had a massive circle, so the party was packed.
Brian had once been the popular kid in high school, but those days were long gone. Now he felt like a stranger. He hadn't gone to college. Sure, he didn't regret it—his financial situation was decent—but still… this life looked nice. Comfortable.
Being a student came with stress, sure, but it had its perks. Life was simple for most of them. They mooched off their hard-working dads, spent their money like they earned it themselves.
Brian didn't resent it. He'd done the same back in the day. And honestly, if he had the chance again, he would. Because no matter what, youth was meant to be lived.
People were dancing like crazy. Brian and Michelle were chilling in a corner, drinking. They were in a good mood. For the first time in a while, they were talking like they used to—without all the tension, without desire.
Then Brian saw Mathew.
"You… son of a bitch."
Brian stood up, walking straight toward him with determination. In his right hand was a set of brass knuckles, ready to strike. But just before he could, Michelle stepped in front of him.
"Don't," she said. "Baby, I know why you're here, but don't do this. If it's making you uncomfortable, we'll leave right now. But please, don't fight. It breaks my heart seeing you like that."
Brian misunderstood.
"What the fuck do you mean it breaks your heart, Michelle? You think I'm a little kid? You think I'm getting beat up again or something?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Brian. You know that's not what I meant."
"Whatever," Brian said, turning his back on her.
"It breaks her heart, huh? Who the fuck does she think she is to feel sorry for me?" he thought cruelly.
Brian had already made his plan. He was going to attack in the middle of the crowd and take Mathew down. Just like last night's humiliation, tonight would be Mathew's turn to taste it.
But before he could act, a slow romantic song started playing. Michelle grabbed his hand, pulled him onto the dance floor, and began dancing. She didn't want to dance—she just wanted to keep him away from Mathew. And it worked.
Brian's hands were on Michelle's waist. Michelle had wrapped her arms around his shoulders, locking her fingers behind his neck. Their eyes never broke contact, and they were both silently hypnotized by each other.
Brian felt something stir inside him for the first time.
For almost seven years, she had been like a sister to him. His best friend. But now? She was driving him crazy—and not just sexually. Emotionally. Romantically.
It's easy for two people of opposite sexes to be sexually attracted. Even if it's a close friend, those thoughts creep in. We're human, after all. Everyone claims "I'd never"—but inside, there's always a storm waiting to break.
This was one of those moments.
What the hell are we doing? Brian thought.
He didn't want to stop. But he also couldn't.
How could someone you've always seen as a sister suddenly become the most fascinating, romantic presence in your life?
When the song ended, they left and got in the car. But the silence was deafening—like they were alone with a stranger they barely knew.
Brian went home quietly. He lay in bed, but couldn't sleep. He turned to the right—Michelle. Turned to the left—Michelle.
He couldn't shake it off. He hated this urge.
How could someone be attracted to their sister?
The next morning, Brian was once again at the construction site. He hadn't pushed himself too hard. Days were passing by like that—nothing special. Except for one change:
He hadn't seen Michelle for three days.
He was avoiding her—on purpose. He didn't want to deal with the consequences of what he felt. He didn't want to admit to himself that he was seriously into Michelle. But it was useless. He was only lying to himself.
Three days? Try thirteen, it wouldn't make a difference. They were best friends. They had to see each other.
Michelle had been calling constantly, making plans, asking him to go out. Brian kept giving excuses. But how long could he keep it up?
Eventually, Michelle had enough. She showed up at Brian's house—angry and confused. She couldn't understand why her best friend was ghosting her.
As soon as Brian opened the door, all his lies and denials came crashing down. Just seeing Michelle made his heart race, palms sweat—he hadn't felt like this since Sophie back in high school.
"What the hell is going on, Brian?" Michelle said, barging in.
"Something's obviously wrong. You're not picking up, and when you do, you're just brushing me off. What the fuck is going on, Brian?? Is it because I didn't let you hit that guy, Mathew? Is that what this is about?"
Her voice was rising, her eyes drilling into his, growing more serious by the second. She stood there, on the tips of her toes, wearing white socks tucked into tight leggings—and it was driving Brian mad.
But he was still thinking up lies.
"Yeah! Fuck yeah!" Brian snapped.
"It wasn't that he hit me, Michelle. It wasn't the fight. What hurt me was the fact that it all happened in front of everyone. I couldn't swallow that. I've been working under brutal conditions for years—how the fuck does a guy like me get his ass kicked by two college punks, huh? Answer me that!"
"This is what it's about, Brian? What would you have done if I let you go? Smashed the back of his skull with brass knuckles? Then what? Jail time? Or a massive lawsuit, if you're lucky. If you're ignoring me because I tried to stop you from doing something stupid—it means you don't see how much I care about you. So, honestly? I don't have anything else to say."
Brian's chest was burning.
He wanted to scream it.
But how?
How do you look someone in the eye—someone you've called your sister, your best friend for years—and say:
"I'm in love with you."